


The Strength To Stay

by kallistob



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Fluff, Graves wears short shorts, M/M, Newt just wants hugs, Nightmares, Percival has issues, Romantic Fluff, Strangers to Lovers, Student Newt, Texting, Weddings, Writer Percival, also jogger Percival, commitment issues, newt is crushing hard, then more meetings, they just keep bumping into each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/pseuds/kallistob
Summary: The one where Newt and Graves just keep meeting each other at random places. Percival is a successful writer, Newt is a literature student with a big heart. Sparks fly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooo 
> 
> this was something i started quite a while back and tonight i felt in the mood to write fluff so i did and now you can have it -w- 
> 
> rating may go up with further chapters, depends on whether i stick to my outline or not. Betaed by vaderina on AO3, thanks love <3 
> 
> enjoy <3

 

As he steps outside, Newt gets the stupid thought that he almost forgot what the sun looked like.

The street is loud as he makes his way to the park. He clutches the leather strap around his shoulder and walks faster, hoping his favorite bench will not be taken. His essay is finally done and he wants to relax a bit, now that he’s not confined to his house, having had to write an uncanny number of pages in three days because he spent more time at the animal shelter instead of working on it. _Again._

He sighs, tired with himself. The park is bustling with life, full of people enjoying the warmth of the sun before autumn settles in. Newt regrets not having taken his earphones. He hopes the book he took with him will be interesting enough to hold his attention, so he can drown out the sound of dogs barking, children playing and generally loud chatter.

Newt goes down the main alley and turns left, making his way towards a relatively calm area of the park he knows well. ‘His’ bench is overlooked by a tree, enclosed in shadows, offering shelter to the one who sits there; there’s another bench on the other side of the alley, bathed in sunlight in case Newt prefers it over shade.

But an old lady sits on the latter, so Newt chooses the one below the tree. For a minute, he closes his eyes and doesn’t do anything - he simply lets himself feel. The breeze on his face, the rustle of leaves, the distant cries of joy all serve to relax him.

Then he reaches inside his bag and takes out the book Tina recommended to him. _Storm of your life_ by Travers Picquery is making quite the headlines these days. Tina had been baffled to learn that he still hadn't read it and practically threw the book in his face.

Losing himself in a fictional universe sounds very good right about now, so Newt flicks the pages open to the first chapter, crosses his legs and starts reading. When he raises his head, about thirty minutes later, he is surprised to see the old lady left her seat and he didn’t hear her. He considers getting up to take her place on the sunny bench, but ultimately decides he is comfortable where he is.

The next time he gets distracted is because he hears rapid footsteps coming his way. Newt pauses, looking at the jogger above the edge of his book and trying to seem inconspicuous.

He’s fit, as joggers are wont to be. Newt can see the muscles of his thighs and calves flexing as the man slows down and stops running, and wonders why in heaven are his shorts so _short_. The man takes off his earphones, a hand reaching towards his armband. He unstraps it before tapping on the phone inside, switching it off. Then he deposits both items on the bench and starts stretching, not paying attention to Newt.

Newt blushes to the roots of his hair, book utterly forgotten as the man starts his exercises. He uses the bench as support, hands braced on its back, lowering his body down so as to stretch his calves, one after the other - unconsciously presenting his ass to Newt, who licks his lips. The stranger’s shorts leave nothing to the imagination, and his movements reveal even more skin to Newt’s appreciative gaze as the fabric rides up slightly over his thighs.

The man then proceeds to quad stretches, eyes closed and head rolling over his shoulders. Newt gets a glimpse at a pink mouth, a golden earring and an interesting profile before the man stops. Then he rolls his ankles a few times, and moves on, thorough.

Newt focuses on the man’s muscled arms. He thinks the stranger could lift him up without efforts, and his brain derails from there.

 _He is backed up against the wall of his flat, the stranger smirking at him. His voice is low as he leans in close, whispering in Newt’s ear that this is his last chance to say no. Newt shakes his head, hopeless, and the man grabs Newt’s face between his hands to kiss him roughly, making it clear that he's the one in charge. He clings to the man’s shirt, and the man smiles against his lips before biting them. Newt lets out a cry, feeling the man’s hands travel down his backside, pressing, dipping lower until they rest against the curve of Newt’s ass. He grips it, knead it, humming in appreciation at the firmness and then he_ lifts _Newt up. Newt’s legs immediately wrap themselves around the man’s hips; his breathing is shallow and it makes the man chuckle._

_“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” he says._

_Newt nods urgently, grinding against the other man's crotch to let him feel his arousal._

The stranger clears his throat, startling Newt out of his inappropriate reverie. He flushes, mortified at the direction his thoughts took regarding the man who hopefully hasn't noticed Newt ogling him for all of ten minutes. Tearing his eyes away, Newt attempts to go back to his book - he can’t even remember where he stopped, Christ - but before he can the stranger suddenly _bends over._ Newt feels his breath hitch at the sight. There’s that ass again, round and firm and perfect. The man’s legs are parted slightly, stretching on in a way Newt deems sinful.

Mercifully, it doesn't last long and the stranger straightens up, grabbing his phone and armband back on the bench before he turns around. He looks down at the device and frowns, typing a quick reply to a text Newt cannot see. He can, however, finally see the man’s face, and his heart does a little  somersault in his chest.

He is _unfairly_ handsome. For a moment, Newt seriously considers approaching him before he renounces the idea as quickly as it came. He isn’t that lucky. Plus, as pretty as he is, the bloke probably has a girlfriend, or two. Swallowing down his disappointment, Newt turns the page of his book and tries to push all thoughts of the stranger from his mind, lest he does something stupid.  

“Excuse me.”

_Oh no._

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of water in that bag of yours, would you?” The jogger asks, voice deep, _standing in front of him_. Newt opens his mouth to reply but no sound comes out. Messy strands of hair fall onto the man's forehead, his thin lips are turned up into a polite smile, and Newt follows a drop of sweat as it rolls down the man’s cheek. He swallows, mouth dry.

Newt looks away to rummage through his bag, getting a, “Sure, hold on,” out just in time before he makes a complete fool of himself.

“Thanks,” the man says warmly when Newt hands him the bottle of water. He tentatively smiles back. This is his chance, right? He should make a move, right?

How do people _do_ these things?

The man gulps down the water greedily, before putting the cap back on and giving the bottle to Newt.

“You’re welcome,” Newt says. The stranger nods at him.

“You're a life saver, man. Have a good evening.”

“Thanks,” Newt manages. “You too.”

The man turns around, putting his armband back on, and jumps a few times on the spot before he takes off running at a regular rhythm, disappearing from Newt’s view.

Newt slams the book against his face and groans.

He is such a _coward_ . He should have at least _tried_ , he should have made a move. He probably would have embarrassed himself, but it’s nothing he wouldn’t be able to recover from.

He looks at his watch. It's getting late, and he should head home now. It doesn’t feel like he relaxed much in the whole time he was there anyway, so he might as well leave. Newt gets up and places the book inside his bag before closing it. He looks around the bench once more, checking to see if he hasn’t forgotten anything when his eyes catch a glimmer of something shiny on the ground.

Intrigued, Newt crouches down. It is a small, round golden earring that Newt picks up between his index and middle finger, and it’s -

It’s the same earring the stranger was wearing. He must have lost it while doing his jumps.

_Oh no._

-

Newt feels stupid. What are the chances that the stranger would be there again at the same hour? For all Newt knows, he was a businessman traveling and he left London three days ago to never come back again.

But the next Saturday still sees Newt on his way to the park, fingers nervously twirling  the golden earring inside his jeans pocket. Newt hopes that whoever the man was, he at least is the kind of person who sticks to a strictly scheduled routine. That might give Newt a chance to see him again, and give him back what is rightfully his.

The weather is a bit chilly, clouds looming overhead and Newt shivers as he sits on the same bench to wait. He hopes the stranger will come.

And maybe, if he does, Newt will dare to ask for his number.

He snorts. Yeah, right. The stranger didn't look even remotely interested anyway, so Newt will calmly ignore the fact that his dreams the past week have been filled with handsome joggers in tight fitting shorts and move on.

He wraps his arms tighter around himself, trying to warm up a bit. He looks around, left and right every few minutes to catch the sight of the stranger, but no one comes. And even if the park is beautiful, Newt really has much better things to do with his time.

Fifteen minutes, he decides. He’ll wait fifteen more minutes and then he’ll leave.

Newt takes out his phone and messages Tina, trying to distract himself, ignoring the pang of disappointment he feels at not seeing the stranger again.

 _I wonder what his name_ _is_ , he muses even as he types, “Hey, you there?” and hits send for Tina.

Her reply is almost immediate, and it makes Newt smile.

 

 

 

 

> _yeah!! just playing the third wheel again because my sister invited me to her studio but failed to mention Jacob was here as well. these two are so sweet together i’m getting cavities just by being in the same room tbh. what you up to?_

Newt pauses. How does he explain his situation?

 _Waiting for a stranger at the park_ doesn’t sound good, so he types, “ **_Meeting a guy at the park. They’re late_ ** ,” instead.

 

 

 

 

 

> _aw, shit. :( don’t go and catch a cold, Scamander. what guy?_

 

 

 

 

 

> **No worries. Can’t afford it with next week’s exams tbh. Also I'll tell you later if he shows up**

 

 

 

 

 

> _mysteries, mysteries. hey, did you finish that book I lent you?_

 

 

 

 

 

> **Storm of your life? No, haven't had the time. I did start it tho**

 

 

 

 

 

> _oh my god, Newt, make an effort. the author is great, i’m telling you. his book made me cry and i never cry !!!_
> 
>  
> 
> **Ahah**
> 
>  
> 
> _it is sooo great!_
> 
> _gotta go though. ttyl !_

“Okay,” Newt sighs, settling his phone back in his pocket. He waits a bit more, but soon fifteen minutes have passed.

Slowly, regretfully, Newt makes his way back to the park’s entrance. This is it, then. He’s never going to see the stranger again.

He scowls. He is being utterly ridiculous. He can't very well develop a crush on some dude he saw from afar _once_.

He is so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice he bumped into someone until his brain registers the pain, and he hears a familiar voice apologise.

Newt can barely believe his own ears. He looks up and oh, his heart flutters at the sight of the very same man, wearing sweater pants, a tight shirt and _glasses_ . Merciful fuck, Newt really shouldn’t find a man probably twice his age sexy _and_ adorable, but he does.

“Sorry, man -” The stranger frowns, scrunching his nose up in confusion. “Hey, do I know you?”

“Y - yes. We met at the park the other day,” Newt says, trying to sound casual. “I gave you water.”

The stranger’s eyes widen in recognition, and he smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Right! Yeah. I remember. Thank you for that, by the way. I was simply dying.”

Newt grins, trying not to look too giddy. “You’re welcome.” Then he suddenly remembers the whole reason why he's even here in the first place.

The stranger opens his mouth, probably to take his leave but Newt holds up a hand to silence him, the other one rummaging through his jeans pocket hurriedly in order to grab the golden earring, which he holds in front of the stranger’s face with a triumphant smile.

“I found this near my bench last time, and I believe it is yours…?”

His voice trails off as the stranger’s face turns from confusion, to shock, and then pure relief - leaving Newt feeling embarrassed, almost as if he was intruding on a private moment. Then the man seems to take a hold of himself and schools his features into a more neutral expression, picking the earring from Newt’s hand.

“Thank you. This old thing,” he says, looking at the earring and shaking his head, his fingers tightening around it. “I thought I’d lost it.” He puts it on immediately, and Newt wets his lips to finally ask the man for his name when an unfamiliar song starts playing _._ Newt blinks confusedly, watching as the man takes his phone out of his pocket, and grimaces at the name on the screen.

“Sorry,” he says. “I gotta answer that.”

Newt nods in understanding. He shuffles from feet to feet awkwardly while the stranger deals with whoever is on the line - someone named Abernathy, apparently - before hanging up. He looks much more tired and wary than he did moments before, and Newt  wants to ask him if he is okay, but he doesn’t know if it would be appreciated.

“Well. I have to go,” the stranger says. “Thank you for the earring, so much. It means a lot. And the water,” he adds as an afterthought.

“You're welcome,” Newt says uncertainly.

“Have a good day.” The man reaches a hand out towards Newt, who hastily takes it. It feels warm, big against Newt’s own.

“Good bye,” Newt replies, saddened as he watches the stranger leave in the opposite direction, hands in his pockets.

Newt manages to go as far as the bakery near the park before it hits him that he _still_ doesn’t know the man’s name and that now, however, he really is never going to see him again, because he has no reasons to, and no means to contact him.

He curses in frustration, ignoring the old lady who jumps and avoids him carefully as he crosses her path.

_And that’s why you should grow some balls, Scamander. Damn it._

At least now he has no risks of ever being rejected by this guy, given the fact that he’ll never see him again. No heartbreaks, but no happiness either. Just his same old, boring, stressful life.

The walk back to his flat is a lonely one.

-

The next week passes in a blur as he tries to focus on his studies. He drinks more tea than what is healthy, to keep himself awake as the assignments pile up relentlessly, preparing them for the upcoming end of the year exams.

He stills thinks of the stranger sometimes. Daydreaming about what could have happened. The stray thoughts appear while he’s having lunch, or reading _Storm of your life,_ or taking a shower. He doesn’t know why the man had such an impact on him. He only knows that he wants to see him again. He feels like there’s something there, something worth exploring, something Newt must not let go.

He thinks of the stranger’s expression when he saw the golden earring in Newt’s hand. He looked so grateful. Newt supposes the earring isn’t just an earring - it has to be a gift. Family? Lover? Newt doesn’t know. He just hopes the man is single.

When Saturday comes Newt desperately needs the comfort of the animal shelter as a stress reliever, so he doesn’t go to the park. It’s no use, anyway. Another week goes by, and the weather changes, bringing heavy rain and swirling, shifting clouds that force people to stay cooped up inside their homes. Newt doesn’t go to the park that weekend either.

He has all but forgotten about his stranger when he meets him again. It’s Friday night, and he is at the supermarket, piling groceries up before it gets too crowded on the week-end. He keeps his earphones in as he goes through the alleys, ensuring no one will bother him, not after the hellish week he’s been through.

He picks up pasta, his last item, and stifles a yawn as he makes his way back to the

checkouts. He wishes he could just collapse on his bed as soon as he gets home, but then he’ll need to put the groceries away, and he also really should vacuum the flat a little.

 _Tomorrow_ , he thinks tiredly. _I’ll do it tomorrow_.

He takes place behind an old lady at the checkouts. His gaze idly drifts around him, trying to find something to hold his interest as he waits for his turn. The music in his ears is too loud and he takes off the earphones, tucking them messily inside his pants pocket. That’s when he hears it. 

“No,” the man is saying. “James, I can’t possibly give you a first draft in a week, the deadline is ridiculous -- yes, I know how much Gellert wants this book, but - _no!_ ”

The stranger takes a deep breath, visibly trying to reign in his temper. He is in the queue to Newt’s right, and Newt watches with something akin to morbid curiosity as he seems to come to terms with the person on the phone, closing his eyes in defeat. “A detailed outline. For next Wednesday. Alright. Yeah. Have a good night.”

The man ends his phone call and passes his hand through his hair. Newt bites his lips. He is the next in line, but perhaps he could wait for the stranger at the entrance? He finds it funny that they keep bumping into each other like this. It makes hope swell in his chest. At the same time, he doesn’t want to wait like an idiot. What would he even say?

_I never caught your name, you know._

_Everything alright? I heard you on the phone._

_You remember me, right?_

Newt grimaces. Perhaps he doesn’t have to make the first move, not in such circumstances. He just wants to see if the man feels like talking to him as well, or if he’s going to pretend they never met.

Newt makes his voice loud on purpose when he greets the cashier, then idly tries to engage in small talk with the woman. She only replies with little hums to his observations about the weather, and Newt cringes.

“Thirty bucks,” she deadpans, and Newt hastens to both put the groceries inside a plastic bag while juggling with his purse to retrieve the money, feeling himself reddening. He hates this moment - every time he feels like he is making a fool of himself.

He finally manages to pay, grabs the plastic bag and turns around, only to halt as he finds the man leaning against the wall in front of him. Newt takes a second to think before he steels himself and walks up to the stranger, clearing his throat.

The man looks up from his phone, and breaks into a smile upon seeing him. “Hey. You again?”

“Hey,” Newt says weakly. That smile, god, _that smile._ “Yeah. How - how are you? I heard you arguing on the phone.”

“Oh, that.” The strangers looks down, embarrassed. “Sorry. Was I that loud?”

“A little bit,” Newt says, the corners of his lips twitching. “But if you hadn’t been I wouldn’t have noticed you, so.”

The strangers smiles again briefly. “You know, we met three times now, but I never caught your name.”

“I keep calling you ‘the stranger’ in my head,” Newt informs him idly. “I’ve been wanting to ask you the same thing since we first met. So. What is your name? No, wait, let me guess.”

The man looks at him, amused, as Newt makes a show of thinking, brows furrowed. “Jonathan?”

“No,” the man chuckles. “Not even close.”

“Charles? Albus? Edward?”

He gets a negative shake of the head and a laugh at each name he proposes, until he throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m out of ideas. Tell me.”

The man draws himself up, and offers his hand for Newt to shake, looking very professional, and very at odds with the environment they are in. Newt accepts the gesture all the same, letting his hand linger more than necessary. “Percival Graves. Pleased to meet you, Mr…?”

“Scamander,” Newt says merrily. “Newt Scamander.”

Finally, _finally_.

Then Graves says, “Well, I should go. I have work to do.”

“Work?” Newt checks his watch. “At this hour on a Friday? Who do you work for?”

“A monster without pity, I’m afraid,” Graves grimaces. He starts to move towards the exit, and Newt follows. “You must have heard me complaining.  I’m a writer, you see, and I have the second volume of a series in the works, but it is taking longer than planned for me to figure out where I want it to go, and my editor isn’t happy.”

“Writing isn’t easy,” Newt says, compassionate. “He sounds demanding, but it must have its rewards, right?”

“Oh, Gellert is brilliant,” Percival agrees quietly. “The first draft he sent me back became a hundred times better thanks to his notes. I’m glad he even accepted to publish me in the first place - never thought I’d make it there on the first try. It was a bit of a shock.”

“How long did it take you to write the book?”

“A couple of years, give or take. I jotted down notes as months went by, but never took the time to sit down and write it, until I did. It underwent so many changes, you have no ideas. Ah, there’s my car.”

Percival reaches inside his pants pocket to retrieve a key, opening his car manually. He unlocks it from the inside, placing his own grocery bag on the passenger’s seat before facing Newt again. “Well, Newt…”

“Funny how the world works,” Newt starts, interrupting him. “Meeting you three times in a row.”

“I know. It is unusual.”

“Say, would you like to meet me again sometime?” Newt asks, point blank before he chickens his way out of it. “I’d love to hear more about your book. Plus, I’m a literature student myself, so.”

“Really?” Graves asks, surprised. “Where do you study?”

“Illvermony university.”

“Oh. I’ve heard about it. It has a good reputation.”

“Quite,” Newt says. “I was lucky to get there.”

Percival hums, thoughtful. “You sure you want to hang out with an old man?”

Newt rolls his eyes. “Yes. C’mon. Hm, my phone’s probably out of battery by now, though. Can I get yours?”

Percival looks at him, seeming to appraise Newt, and Newt tries not to wilt under his gaze. Talking with Percival helped ease his nerves, his heart rate slowing down to a normal pace, but if Percival keeps staring at him like that he's going to faint. He just hopes he’s not as red as he feels.

Then Percival shrugs and tucks his cellphone out of his pants pocket, unlocking it and giving it to Newt so he can type in his number. Newt does so quickly, and beams at Percival when he gives it back. “There you go. Text me whenever you want. I can’t promise I’ll reply immediately, but I’d love to grab a drink with you, Percival.”  

Percival nods, looking almost shy.

“I’ll be out of your hair now,” Newt says, smiling. “Don’t work too late.”

“Three am is a perfectly good hour to go to sleep,” Percival retorts, and Newt honest to god chuckles, because this man makes him ridiculously happy. He sounds just like Newt, too. And Tina, come to think of it.

Newt wonders if ungodly bedtime hours are something that comes hand in hand with the writer package.

“Of course it is. Good night, Percival.” He picks up the grocery bag he left on the ground, looking at Percival expectantly.

“Good night, Newt,” Percival finally replies, nervously twirling his car keys in his hand. “I’ll - I'll text you.”

“Please do. I need someone to force me to leave my flat sometimes.”

Newt smiles again before turning on his heels, and he leaves, lest he climbs into the car next to Percival. He does not miss the quiet sigh behind him. He forces himself to keep going, mind overrunning.

Hopefully the sigh was a good sign. He wasn’t too clingy, was he? Or too annoying? Too eager?

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Hell. At least he has a name now.”

Percival.

 _It suits him_ , Newt thinks. It’s powerful. Mysterious. Much better than just “stranger”.

And Percival took his number. That means he wants to see him again.

Newt whistles as he goes cycling the whole way back home. He really, really hopes Percival will text him back. He doesn’t even know the name of the book he’s written, but he wants to. He wants to read it, too.

But even the thrill of meeting Percival again does not prevent him from collapsing onto his couch as soon as he arrives.

He gets up a few minutes later with great efforts, forces himself to put away the groceries, and decides to skip dinner for tonight. He brushes his teeth, takes off his clothes, gives an enormous yawn and blinks in surprise at the sound he just made.

It is definitely time for bed. Newt goes, checking his phone one last time for messages and finding none. He plugs it in near his bed for the night, rolls over on one side, and closes his eyes.

-

He is snoring peacefully, oblivious to the world when his phone lights up, around two in the morning.

_Does coffee on Sunday sound good to you? :)_

-

 

        

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the gorgeous illustration you see above was done by @qed221b on tumblr, back when I first posted a preview of this fic. give her some love, she's incredible and lovely !!!!!!
> 
> http://qed221b.tumblr.com/post/161776835487/you-wouldnt-happen-to-have-a-bottle-of-water-in


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t drink often, do you?” Newt tells him when Percival stumbles over his words in a simple sentence. 
> 
> “I restrain myself,” Percival says, narrowing his eyes at his glass. “Self-control is important.” 
> 
> “In your everyday life?” 
> 
> Percival frowns. “Yes.” He leans closer, and Newt is taken aback by those pink lips as they part, by the shadows Percival’s long eyelashes cast over his cheeks. “You won’t like me when I’m - emo - emotionally compromised.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we start to realize Percival might have issues. Also, Credence is a cat. I regret nothing.
> 
> For the texts : 
> 
> italics is Newt   
> bold is Tina   
> Bold + italics is Percival. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

Coffee on Sunday sounds really good. Newt _really_ wishes he could make it. A quick sum up of the assignments he has piling up for the upcoming week suffices, however, to make him cringe and sit down. He sends an apologetic text to Percival around ten in the morning, telling him that he has to work. Percival replies quickly, understanding - even adds the arm lifting emoji to his text as he wishes Newt good luck. It makes Newt smile stupidly at his phone, wondering how long Percival went through the smileys before deeming this one relatable enough.

Newt wants nothing more than to see him again. The week drags on. Tina can sense he is elsewhere, but when she probes him Newt hesitates to say the truth.

“Does it have something to do with that guy you were meeting at the park?” She asks him, wiping her lips with a paper napkin. They’re in the cafeteria between two classes, and Newt is just finishing his slice of apple pie. “You never did tell me what that was all about.”

“Oh, right. It’s nothing, promise. I met him while jogging last time and he’d… dropped something from his pocket. I picked it up and called him back, but he didn’t hear me.” Newt shrugs dismissively. “So I went to the park the same day, the week after, to see if he was there so I could give him back the earring.”

“Fancy.” She takes a bite of her hot-dog, staring at him. She has mustard on her upper lip, and Newt points at the napkin again. “That’s not all, though.”

“No,” Newt admits with a smile. “I might or might not be meeting him again this Sunday.” He pauses, lets suspense build up. “For coffee.”

Tina grins widely. “I knew it! Newt, you sly dog! You have a date! Congratulations!”

“Sssh, not so loud, Christ.” Newt ducks his head and lowers his voice. “Besides, we didn’t name it as such. Perhaps this is just the start of a beautiful friendship. The thing is, Tina, it's just funny because I keep running into him. The park - twice. Then I met him at the supermarket. It’s weird.”

“It’s fate,” Tina drawls, convinced of herself. “How do you plan to get dressed?”

“Well enough.” Newt rolls his eyes. “It’s unfair, though. The guy’s so handsome he could probably wear a bin bag and look pretty in it.”

“Looks like you're smitten.” Tina’s phone dings and her attention wavers. Not that it stops her from keeping the conversation going. “What’s his name?”

“Percival.”

“I like it. Sounds very noble.”

“He’s a writer,” Newt keeps going, suddenly overcome with the need to share. “He jogs. That’s how I met him. He’s so hot, Tina. He also wears glasses. Has an undercut.”

Tina makes a noise of approval, looking pleasantly impressed. “Where does he study?”

“Ah.” Newt pauses, fidgeting with his cup of tea. “He doesn’t exactly. Study, that is.”

“That’s fine,” she says gently. “Gap year? Work? He didn’t say?”

“That's right,” Newt says with relief. “He didn’t say.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to ask him on Sunday, darling.”

“I will, baby,” Newt promises. “I will.”

-

He sees Percival before Sunday.

Classes end up sooner than expected on Thursday, due to his linguistics teacher being absent. Newt calls the animal shelter as he leaves the university, to ask if they need an extra pair of hands for the evening. His boss agrees, calling him a ‘good kid’ when Newt says he’ll be there in fifteen. All in all, he feels better than he has in weeks that night as he pedals quickly to work.

He has no pressing matters to attend to - in his opinion, they can all wait for the week-end. Moreover, it is only a couple of days before he sees Percival again. They hadn’t texted much during the week, but Newt figures Percival is as busy as him, if not more so. The last time they saw each other Percival did yell at his phone, and he looked exhausted. Newt hopes their date can ease the man’s pain, just a little. He prays that Percival doesn’t cancel.

He stops his bike at a red light, leaning back on the saddle with a tired sigh. Exercising feels good. He turns his head this way and that as he waits for the light to turn green. His mouth falls open.

There’s Percival. There’s Percival in the second lane to Newt’s right. The man doesn’t see him. He seems to be on the phone again, but there’s a smile gracing his face. Newt can admire his profile like this. He seems better than the last time Newt saw him. It makes him happy.

He wonders if he should do something to make his presence known. But he refuses to wave his arms wildly around, in the face of the other drivers, like a fool until Percival sees him. So he observes. When the light turns green, Percival and him take different roads, and Newt feels warm all over.

It is stupid, he knows, to be so smitten with a man he's met thrice. Yet he feels drawn to Percival in a way he wouldn’t know how to explain. He is also sure it is not one-sided. It feels like the universe is pushing them together, intertwining their lives as they cross paths again and again. Newt is not a religious man, but with this - if this keeps happening, he could believe in a higher power. In magic, perhaps, swirling through the atmosphere and linking his and Percival's pinky fingers together with a red string.

He is a fool.

-

Newt knows it is not fair to play favorites at the shelter.

Credence is the only one who always mewls in utter happiness as Newt comes to feed him, though. It’s very hard not to become attached to the lean cat with blind, white eyes. The cat purrs as Newt pets him gently, making sure to let Credence sniff his hand to recognize him first. He empties one of Credence’s bowls to give him fresh water. The grains of cat food clink as they come in contact with the metallic shape of the other bowl, and the cat dives in, eyes closed in bliss as he wolfs down what is offered to him. Newt chides him gently for the speed at which he eats, and he sits on a chair inside the cell as he waits for Credence to finish.

He pats his knee when Credence is done, and the cat follows the sound of it, his butt wiggling as he jumps to curl up on Newt’s lap. Deep, rumbling purrs fill the room as Newt softly scratches the cat’s head. The stress of the following week leaves him as minutes pass by, until all Newt has left is bone-deep exhaustion. His eyes sting. He eases Credence off his lap gently, and the cat makes a sound of protest but goes. Newt stretches and yawns as he makes his way to the door. He has more animals to feed, but he has a soft spot for Credence and always makes sure to visit him first.

“See you later, buddy,” Newt murmurs to the cat. He gets a soft _meow_ for his efforts. Newt smiles as he continues his duties.

Not for the first time, he thinks of ways he could adopt Credence, but knows he won’t be able to until he has graduated. He is not home often enough to care for an animal. Even if he were, his budget is too tight to allow all the necessary expenditures he’d need to buy to welcome Credence in his flat.

-

On Friday, Tina excitedly shows him the final design she’s drawn for the tattoo she wants to get. It's been a project long in the making. Newt examines the drawing as Tina rolls herself a cigarette, using her lap as a table. They’re both on a bench outside campus as night falls, enjoying the last rays of sun.

“What do you think?” She asks him, lighting up her blunt. “Is it okay to get that tattooed on my back, or will it look ridiculous?”

“Not many people will see it anyway,” Newt points out. “But it _is_ good, Tina. Really. I can’t wait to see the final result.” The tattoo is that of a thunderbird, its wings spread. He seems to fly over Tina’s paper. It looks alive and strong - it looks like her.

“We’ll go to the swimming-pool together so I can show it off,” she says brightly. She exhales smoke and it curls around her, making Newt move minutely sideways to avoid the smell. “Now I just have to look for a tattoo artist I feel good with. Someone who is not too expensive.”

Newt blinks at her. “You could see Theseus.”

“Theseus - oh! My god, I forgot! Your brother is a tattoo artist! You think he could give me a price if I tell him the latest gossips about you?”

“Don’t you dare,” Newt retorts playfully, sticking his tongue out at her. “But yeah. He’s good. I’m sure he can do this for you.”

“What’s the name of his shop?” She takes out her phone to write it down.

“ _The Queen’s parlor._ ”

“Fancy,” she mutters, nodding her approval. “He works alone?”

“No, he’s got coworkers. You can just drop by one evening and discuss your project with him. He’s open until nine, if I recall, and he’s usually the last one in the shop.”

“Thanks, Newt.” Tina smiles warmly. “I’ll still look up a few others just in case.”

“Of course.” Newt gets up, wrapping his coat tighter around himself. “Plus, I never said my brother was cheap.”

Tina looks up at him, shakes her head. “It’s fine. I did save up for a long time for this, you know. I just don’t want to regret it.”

“You won’t,” Newt promises reassuringly. “I’m famished. Want to grab something to eat?”

“Sure - wait, what time is it?”

Newt looks at his watch as Tina takes a final drag of her cigarette, before flicking it to the ground. “Nearly eight.”

Tina’s eyes widen. She makes a noise of distress before cursing, loudly. She zips her handbag shut, dusts her clothes, buttons up her coat. Reconsiders. Newt watches in bewilderment as she quickly grabs lipstick and a pocket mirror in her bag and proceeds to apply red on her lips, trying not to mess it up too badly.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Newt says lightly, mirthful. “Does someone else here have a date, perhaps?”

“Yes, Tinder, cute girl, and fucking hell I am fucking late.” Tina kisses him on both cheeks quickly. “I’ll see you later, darling, okay? Oh, fuck, there’s red on your face now. That's okay, you look charming. Give a big kiss to that Percival fellow for me. Have a nice week-end!”

She turns around and starts running in the opposite direction, the sound of heels over pavement echoing through the night. Newt laughs. He laughs louder when she take the time to whirl around and give him the middle finger, before taking off again.

 

 

> _hope your date goes well :P_
> 
>  
> 
> **stfu, Artemis.**

 

-

Saturday passes in a blur. Newt cleans his flat, makes sure he has a smart outfit for Sunday. He works on an essay due for the next Tuesday. It is frustrating and tiring work. When he feels about ready to claw at his own skin, he decides to take a walk.

He watches a movie that night, sitting alone on his bed with the lights off. He wishes someone - _Percival_ \- was there with him. Wonders what kind of movie he likes. Wonders if Percival will even be there at all.

-

He wakes up at six on Sunday because of a nightmare. Disoriented, he takes time to assess his surroundings and calm down. He rubs at his stinging eyes, checks his phone. He is surprised to see he has a new message.

 

 

> **_Thought we could meet at Kowalski’s bakery. Heard of it?_ **

 

Newt types quickly, enthusiastic. _as a matter of fact my best friend’s sister is married to the owner. what time?_

He doesn’t expect Percival to reply quickly, given the hour, and nearly drops his phone when he receives a notification merely seconds later. _**Great :) I’m available at two. We can eat and grab coffee together.**_

 

 

> _works for me._
> 
>  
> 
> _**Good night, Newt.** _
> 
>  

Newt chuckles. _yeah. ‘night.’ have you slept at all?_

 

 

 

> _**Have you?** _
> 
>  
> 
> _badly._
> 
>  
> 
> _**Me, too.** _

There’s more behind those words. Newt doesn’t insist. He can always ask in person, later, what Percival meant.

-

He oversleeps.

It was to be expected, what with the exhaustion of the week crashing down on him, but when he opens his eyes and sees that it is half past noon - well.

“Wait a fuck,” he says, blinking at his alarm’ clock. “What the dick. Oh fuck. _Fuck._ ”

He gets out of bed so fast his vision goes black.

-

It is one pm when he finishes getting ready. His hair smells good, like apples, and he has combed his curls so they fall artfully to the side. He is dressed in a white shirt - the top buttons remain open - and tight, dark jeans. He has dabbed a bit of cologne on his inner wrists and behind his ears. The only things that are missing are shoes (he settles for his usual black boots), a scarf (dark grey) and his coat. As well as Percival on his arm, but that will hopefully come later.

For lack of a better thing to do, Newt grabs his laptop, a couple of notes he has lying around, and leaves his flat to make his way to Kowalski’s. If Percival isn’t there, he can get some work done while waiting for him.

He arrives thirty minutes earlier, and notices Percival had the same idea as him. The man is easily recognizable, sitting away in a corner, furiously typing on his MacBook as if it offended him. Newt tries to ignore his nervousness as he makes his way to Percival’s table, and not for the first time he scolds himself for being so affected by the man. It doesn’t even make _sense_.

“Hey,” he greets, and Percival looks up at him. He wears a pale, slightly over large white sweater, and his glasses. Newt swallows, struck again by how unfair it is that someone could be so attractive.

“Newt,” Percival smiles warmly. “Take a seat. You’re early.”

“Yeah.” Newt takes off his coat and sits down, pulling his chair closer to the table. “I slept in. Had nothing better to do than come here and wait for you.”

Percival nods, but his eyes are focused on his laptop. Newt waits awkwardly for him to finish. It doesn’t take long, but it still makes him feel weird.

“Sorry,” Percival says quickly. “I just - have to save it multiple times… There we go. I’ll send the email later.” He clicks his laptop shut and puts it away in the bag at his feet, before steepling his fingers under his chin. “So.”

“So,” Newt returns the warm smile. “How’s the writing coming along?”

Percival makes a helpless noise in the back of his throat. “More or less well. Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Yes, please,” Newt quickly agrees. He is ravenous. “I haven’t had time for breakfast this morning.”

“Why were you up so early?” Percival asks with a tilt of his head. _Cute_. “On a Sunday, nonetheless?”

“Nightmare,” Newt shrugs. “It’s the stress. It made no sense. There was a clown in it.”

“A clown,” Percival repeats slowly. “Sounds funnier than mine.”

He doesn’t elaborate. A waiter comes to their table and takes their commands, and Newt orders what he thinks is a croissant filled with meat, as well as sparkling water. Percival takes a quiche, and a glass of wine despite the hour.

“Their wine is good,” he says in response to Newt’s interrogative glance.

“It’s not even five.”

“I need it,” Percival says simply, and Newt can relate to that.

“You said you’d written a book?” Newt prompts curiously. “What’s the title?”

Percival’s face lights up, crow feet deepening in the corners of his eyes as he grins. “What if I told you you know it already?”

Newt raises an eyebrow, his fingers idly circling the hem of his empty glass. “You’re famous?”

“You could say that. You had my book in your hands when I first met you.”

Newt stills. “ _Storm of your life_? That’s you?!”

“Not my real name, obviously,” Percival says sheepishly. “Travers Picquery is my pen name, but it’s me. And since it sold okay, people are bugging me to write more and make it a series.”

“Okay, wow.” Newt is boggled. “That’s just - wow. What kind of coincidence…”

“I know,” Percival agrees with amusement. “Funny how we keep running into each other and the first time I met you, you were reading a book I wrote.” He punctuates his sentence with a wink. It makes Newt blush, makes him clear his throat. Good. _Good._ They’re on the same page.

“Yeah. It’s kinda awesome.”

The waitress chooses that moment to come back with their drinks and a basket with bread. They both thank her. Newt grabs a slice of bread at the same time as Percival, and their hands touch.

“So what do you do, Newt?” “Percival asks, taking his glass of wine to bring it to his mouth. “Remind me.”

“Literature student at Illvermony,” Newt says, not hiding the pride from his voice. “I also work part-time at an animal shelter near the school. I have plans to write a book about animals in the future.”

“Do you travel a lot, then?”

“I try to. As much as I can. During the holidays mostly.”

“That’s nice. Where have you been?”

“Well --”

“The croissant?” A feminine voice interrupts him, and Newt gestures to himself. He has to admit, the meal looks delicious, and the smell is enough to make his mouth water.

“ _Bon appétit_ ,” he says to Percival when they’re both served.

“ _Merci_ ,” Percival replies back smoothly, making Newt blush again as he tucks into his croissant.

“You speak French?”

“Just a few words, I’m afraid,” Percival says honestly. “What about you?”

“I traveled there twice, during summer. It’s a lovely country.”

Percival hums thoughtfully. “From what I heard,” he says as he takes a sip of wine, “people are quite rude over there.”

Newt shrugs. “I’m sure they say the same of Americans.”

“They'd be right.”

-

The rest of their meal goes rather smoothly. Newt learns the sound of Percival’s laugh, drinks in the sight of his flushed cheeks, courtesy of his second glass of wine.

“You don’t drink often, do you?” Newt tells him when Percival stumbles over his words in a simple sentence.

“I restrain myself,” Percival says, narrowing his eyes at his glass. “Self-control is important.”

“In your everyday life?”

Percival frowns. “Yes.” He leans closer, and Newt is taken aback by those pink lips as they part, by the shadows Percival’s long eyelashes cast over his cheeks. “You won’t like me when I’m - emo - emotionally compromised.”

Newt wrinkles his nose, trying to stay focused. He nudges Percival’s foot with his own and Percival straighten up. “You sound like a Vulcan.”

Percival licks his lips. “Star Trek, uh?”

“Yes.”

“Are you fond of it?”

“I like it.” Newt shrugs. “A normal amount. I like animals more.”

“Do you have one?” Percival asks, placing his glass on the table and reclining in his chair.

“An animal? No. I wish. There’s a cat at the animal shelter I work at who is adorable, but I can’t afford to take care of an animal at the moment.”

Percival nods, understanding. “It’s a lot of responsibilities.”

“Quite,” Newt sighs.

“I need to go to the toilets, Newt. If you’ll excuse me -”

“Sure, go ahead,” Newt says with a nod. Percival leaves the table and makes a face as the world spins around him. “Uh - will you be fine?”

“Yes, my boy.”

Newt watches him go until he can’t see him. He is flushed prettily, his mind replaying the last words Percival said. _My boy._  

He takes his phone out of his pocket to text Tina, and groans at the amount of notifications he sees.

 

 

> **how’s your date goiiiiiiiiiiing**
> 
> **is he still hot**
> 
> **did he offer to pay for the meal**
> 
> **is there a second date planned?!**
> 
>  
> 
> _hey :D date going well, he keeps winking at me. he drank too much though, it’s cute. i didn’t know old men could be adorable._

He hits “send” without thinking, before widening his eyes in horror. Tina’s response is immediate, and understandably confused.

 

 

> **old men??**
> 
> **newt, what the fuck. what are you doing**
> 
> **please don’t tell me you’re into the daddy stuff**

Newt feels his whole face grow warm, embarrassment making him hunch over.

 

 

> _it’s not like that ! and he’s not that old!_

 

 

 

> **newt i swear to God**

Tina follows that last text with a series of emojis that do not make sense, although the majority of them represent the face screaming in fear, and money. Newt slumps down on the table, whimpering softly.

_Uuuuuugh -_

“You okay?” Percival’s voice says above him, and Newt sits up fast. “Is your stomach hurting?” He looks worried now. “Is it the meal?”

“No, no, no, I’m fine,” Newt squeaks. “And you?”

“Feeling a little better.”

“Good. Good. Hey, what do you say we pay and go outside?”

“Sure.” If Percival is surprised by his quick, out of the blue decision, he doesn’t let it show. “Let’s go.”

It is easier said than done. The bakery is packed, and the waitress doesn’t notice them amidst all the customers. Newt keeps his hand raised in the air, trying to catch her eyes, and Percival’s back to drumming on his phone. Eventually, she ends up giving them the check.

“Percival?” He calls. “Do you want me to pay, or should we split?”

“Split?” Newt nods to indicate his agreement. A quick calculation and he pulls twenty bucks out of his pocket, while Percival pays with his credit card. The waitress thanks them both, and they make sure to leave her a generous tip on the table.

They step outside, bundled up in their clothes. It has grown colder. Newt tucks his nose in his scarf, looking at Percival sideways. The man is pulling leather gloves on, and Newt just barely refrains from groaning. If he didn’t have a glove kink, he has one now. Jesus Christ, is this man infuriating.

He doesn’t feel quite ready to go back to work just yet. “Percival. Are you busy this afternoon? We could take a stroll in the park where we met. It’s not too cold.”

“I’d love to. But I am busy, unfortunately,” Percival says, arms crossed over his chest. His tone is apologetic. “I have to work on the first chapter of that second book.”

“Oh, right. Did…” Newt hesitates. “Gellert, was it? Did he validate your outline?”

“You remember his name?” Graves chuckles. “It was fifty-fifty, really. He gushed at some ideas and destroyed me at others. The worst thing is, he’s right. All in all he was mostly satisfied with my work, though.”

Newt frowns. “Isn’t it counter-productive? To pressure you into writing something you enjoy?”

“I gotta make ends meet, my boy. You know what they say. There ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

Newt smiles. “The song’s going to be stuck in my head.”

“That was the point.” Percival’s smile softens as he looks at him. “Listen, Newt, I had a really good time today. I’d like to see you again, if you’re amenable?”

 _If you’re amenable_. Who even talks like that? Writers, apparently.

“I’d love to!” Newt says eagerly, unable to help himself. He hopes he does not look as enamored as he is. “What would you want to do? Park, movie, museum?”

“Uh.” Percival seems surprised. He scratches the back of his neck with one hand, looking up at Newt under his eyelashes. “Just so we’re on the same page -- this whole thing is more than friendly, right?”

Ah. Newt swallows audibly. “Y - yes. Yeah. For me, yes. I mean - and for you, if you’re okay with that. Yes. I’d love for it to be more than friendly, but there's no -”

“Good.” Percival lets his hand fall. He steps closer to Newt, keen eyes focused on him. Newt is rooted to the spot. Graves’ hands come up Newt’s chest and he adjusts Newt’s scarf, leaning in closer.

“My place, tonight, eight pm,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “I’ll text you the address, you gorgeous boy.”

Newt shivers, opens his mouth to protest. He wants, contrary to his habits, to take things slow with Percival. They met in a peculiar way. Surely that has to mean something, right? Newt doesn’t want to jump into bed directly with him, and be relegated to the rank of ‘fuck buddy’ like he has been so many times before. It ruins everything.

Percival must sense his reluctance because he steps back, although his hands do not leave Newt’s sides.

“I don’t do dates.” Percival says suddenly. He is harsh and cold, his words cutting Newt’s skin to curl sickeningly around his heart. “I don't do romance, Newt. I can’t. Not with you, not with anyone. I just don't.” He takes a deep breath and steps back. Clenches his fists. “Now, what we can do is have a good time together. Maybe more than once. But I don’t want --” He trails off, blinks a few times. “I don’t do feelings. Ever.” His tone is final. “Not anymore.”

Newt stays silent. Percival is already closing the book of their story, not even giving them a chance to appreciate what they could have had together.

“Percival,” he says, struggling to find the right words. _Foolish, foolish, foolish._

“I will not change my mind.” Percival stares down at him, though his lips are quivering. It is the cold, nothing more. It hurts Newt, it hurts and they’ve met a total of four times and this is _foolish_. But he wants more of Percival, he wants to see the man again, and if the promise of sex is what it takes --

Newt is tired.

He is tired of sleeping with people once and then being cast aside, as if sex was so inherently detached from emotions when it’s not. It is not. Yes, he is very attracted to Percival. But it’s not all that _matters_.

There _is_ the rush of want, the thrill of anticipation as he imagines what tonight could lead up to, should Newt show up on Percival’s doorstep. It would be nice. It would be satisfying. Once. But Newt is looking for more, and Percival can't provide that.

He has to forget him. He has to stop delusioning himself into thinking men could ever want more than _this_ from him. Percival was probably just humouring him when he pretended to listen to Newt happily talking about his various protégés from the shelter.

Percival is chewing on his lips, looking uncomfortable, out of his depth. Newt sniffles.

“Fine,” Newt says finally, his voice rough. “Good evening, then, Percival.”

“Newt, I’m -”

Newt shuts him out. He turns around, walks away. After a while he realizes he is running. His vision is blurry.

 _It’s the stress_ , he thinks furiously to as he wipes his eyes with his coat sleeve, folded in half in the middle of the street with one hand on his knee to support himself. _It's fine. I’m fine. It doesn’t matter. He was just not the right one. Stop crying, you imbecile._ He seethe at his own stupidity. _You’re fine. I should have seen it coming, I should have seen it coming. Old man is only too happy to fuck a young guy who is so obviously into him._ Newt bares his teeth. _Christ, I’m pathetic._

_No! I'm okay. You’re okay, Newt._

_You’re okay._

_You’re worth more than that._

“Hey, universe?” He says aloud, uncaring if the passersby look at him weirdly. “I never want to see him again. Take _that_.”

_If I do, I’ll accept his proposal._

_I am a fragile person, and I will get hurt._

_screw that guy,_ He texts Tina.

 

 

 

> **baby :( already turned out to be an asshole?**
> 
>  
> 
> _yeah._
> 
>  
> 
> **you want to drop by mine tonight? movie and pizza with me?**
> 
>  
> 
> _i’ll be there._
> 
>  

It's all fine.

-

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's two in the morning heyy!! 
> 
> this chapter was edited but unbetaed, all mistakes are mine. perhaps they are numerous, i do not know, i am too sleepy. i'll give it another once-over in the morning. i still hope you enjoyed it ! 
> 
> please leave a comment if you have, i'm a poor college student with no time to spare, and feedback is my only reward. i'll love you forever if you do. thanks *snuggles*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know what to tell you,” Newt finally says when the silence stretches. “I was kind of trying to get over you.” 
> 
> “So was I,” Graves says with a little smile. “It’s not working.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhuhuh, hello !! <33 long chapter ahead, i hope you guys will like it. many thanks to Qed_Scribblings because she's really helped making this chapter better. Enjoy :)

“You got a minute?”

Newt stretches, arms up above his head. The dogs at his feet are busy licking their bowls of food clean, and then whining softly when there's nothing left. Newt pets them before turning around and stepping out of their enclosure. Nathaniel, his colleague, is waiting for him, making a face at the two big Rottweilers now curled up on the floor like tired puppies. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Newt blinks. “Do what?”

“Approach them.” Nathaniel points at the two dogs. “From what I've heard, if anyone else tries to give them food they get growls and a few nips, but you get headbutts and cuddles and _obedience_.”  

Newt shrugs. “I like them. They like me back.”

“‘Course. How’s Credence?”

Newt smiles at the memories, the both of them making their way back to the entrance of the animal shelter. “His purring was about as loud as my grandfather's snoring - and my grandfather has managed to wake people in neighbouring flats. I'd say he's doing great.”

Nathaniel snickers, amused. The reception looms ahead of them, but Newt can’t help looking at each caged animal they pass by. “Were they all fed?”

“I don't know.”

Newt frowns. “What do you mean you don't know? Wasn’t Kayla supposed to come in today?”

“She called in sick...Which is why I came looking for you, actually,” Nathan says, apologetic. “There’s a guy at the entrance who wants to take a look at the cats. She would’ve taken care of it, but…”

“But she’s not here. It’s fine, I’ll take him,” Newt nods. “Is he actually looking to adopt or is he just curious?”

“I think he is serious,” Nathaniel says. “I don't know. But this probably means you’ll have to stay a couple more hours, though.”

“S’no problem,” Newt mutters. “I know _you_ suck around animals. There's no way in hell I am letting you feed them.”

Nathaniel sticks his tongue out at him, a mature gesture typical of a 30 year old man, and opens the door to the reception. Newt follows closely behind him. There’s a man sitting in one of the chairs, browsing through a magazine as he waits for them. He looks up as soon as they enter, and Newt’s heart falls somewhere in the vicinity of his pelvis.

Percival Graves looks about as shocked as he feels, but he is able to hide it more quickly.

 _Are you kidding me?_ Newt thinks.

It had been one week since their disastrous date, and it seemed the universe had listened to him. He hadn’t run into Graves at all during this time period - until now.

“Sorry about the wait, Mr. Graves. This is my colleague, Newt. He’ll show you around. And if you find someone you hit it off with, we'll sort out the paperwork here." Nathaniel smiles politely before going round his desk, and Newt is left to stand in front of Percival. For a moment, no one moves. Then Percival gets up, and it springs Newt into action.

“This way, sir,” he says smoothly, clipped. He spins on his heels and Percival follows him outside. _Act professional._ “I was told you wanted to look at the cats. Are you looking to adopt?”

“I, hm, yes. I think a bit of companionship would be great.” Graves’ voice sounds faint, but that’s perhaps because Newt is walking so quickly the older man has to jog to catch up. _Professional, Newt._ “Newt, listen, I think we should -”

Newt takes a sharp turn left, towards another, smaller building. “This is where we keep the cats. Let me know if one catches your eye and we can take them out and see how the two of you get along. After you.”

He holds open the door to the building and Graves passes in front of him, nervously chewing on his lips. Newt lets the door close behind them with a bang. Percival wrinkles his nose at the sharp smell surrounding them, but Newt smiles, embracing the familiarity of it. It helps quiet down the jumble of _what the fuck is he doing here_ in his mind.

There are two rows of cages on either side, and a larger enclosed play area at the end. It has a scratching post, pillows and blankets, a stool for the staff to sit on, and a few branches hanging up high, which cats can access by jumping on the scratching post first.

Graves hesitantly takes a first step towards the cats on the right.

He seems in good shape. Still handsome as the devil, with a scarlet scarf and dark coat to boot, but the effect is a bit ruined by the pair of glasses still perched up his nose. Graves must have felt him staring because he turns and smiles, and it’s enough to make Newt flush in embarrassment. He passes a hand over his face before letting his arms fall to his sides, defeated.

“Could you introduce me?” Graves asks, still smiling shyly. He fidgets, as if uncomfortable being in Newt's presence. Newt shakes himself out of it and joins him near the cats. They meow at his approach, and Newt winces at the little cacophony.

He takes care to keep his distance with Graves, maintaining an arm’s length between them as he shows him the first cat. It is small, with brown and white fur, its eyes closed - napping. “This is Finka. She’s two years old. Her heart is a little bit fragile, but she's real sweet.”

Graves nods, looking at her closely. Finka lets out a little snort in her sleep, her ears twitching. “Oh,” Percival says in surprise. “That was cute.”

Newt stares at him, because fuck his life, but Percival’s expression just now was utterly adorable and he’s back to stage one. The pining and being an idiot. _Damn it._

“Newt?”

“Right.” Newt clears his throat, somehow mustering enough strength to articulate his next words. He points to the cage above hers, where a ginger cat with yellow eyes stares down at them. “This is Crooks. He may not look it, but he is very nice. His last owner passed away last year. She was quite old. He’s been here ever since - he’s getting a bit old too, but I wish he could get a comfortable home to finish his days in peace,” Newt finishes. They both move on to the next cage, where they are welcomed by a very familiar and loud _meow_.

“Hello you,” Newt smiles effortlessly, pressing his fingers against the bars so Credence can smell him. “I’ve missed you too. This is Credence. We rescued him from an abusive family. He was just skin and bones when he got there,” he says, somber. “But look at him now.”

“He’s magnificent,” Graves agrees. “Is he blind?”

“Yes. His other senses are extremely sharp though. Sometimes I feel like he can see as well as I do, solely through sounds and touch.” Newt can’t hold back the touch of pride in his voice.

Graves comes closer to him, close enough that their shoulders brush as they look at the cat. His smile is gentle, almost awed as he imitates Newt and brings his hand up for Credence to smell. The cat smells him through the bars, before emitting a rumbling purr. Newt lets his hand fall, eyes wide. “I think you’re the first person who he hasn’t bitten on sight… well - scent.”

“Oh.” Graves grins at the cat, looking pleased. “Well that’s reassuring.”

“Would you like to try taking him into the play area?”

“Yes.”

Newt grabs the keyring hanging from his belt, searching for the key with a red dot. He opens Credence’s cage and lifts the cat inside, holding him close to his chest as he goes to open the play area’s door, Graves behind him. It gives with a creak, and the two of them enter it.

“Please shut the door behind you,” Newt says as he places Credence on the floor. “There you go, buddy. World is yours.”

Credence meows his approval, little pink nose twitching everywhere as he gets reacquainted with his surroundings. Newt sits on the stool, letting Graves hover awkwardly near the door.

“C’mon,” he encourages. “Step closer. You should sit on the floor and let Credence come to you.”

Graves looks at him, and again Newt gets the impression that the man wants to say a million things, none of which related to the adoption of a cat. Credence is stumbling in the cell, seeking out the pile of pillows, and Graves finally relents and sits down - apparently not caring if his immaculate pants got stained. The older man holds his hand out, just like Newt said, and lets Credence find him.

“Why are you looking to adopt a cat?” Newt asks, to break the silence. “You didn’t - you didn’t mention it the last time we saw each other.”

“It’s to complete the cliché,” Graves deadpans. “What is a writer without his cat?”

Newt snorts despite himself, the corners of his lips twitching. “The brooding look and glasses already gave you away, you know. No need to overdo it.”

Graves looks at him in disbelief and a hint of relief. Perhaps Newt is willing to hear him out after all. “I don’t brood.”

“You do.” Newt leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. Credence has come closer, and he is sniffing Graves’ hand again. Graves lets him come forth, until he tries to climb onto his lap. The man freezes, hands half raised, as if not sure whether he should help the blind cat or not.

“Ow, ow -” Graves grimaces. “Hey, hey, Cred, buddy - not the claws, not the claws -”

Newt smirks. Credence continues his vaillant rise, punctuated by little meows and Graves’ sounds of pain as the cat digs its claws into Graves’ pants until he is settled in his lap. Credence spins on himself, and finally curls up, tail tucked so the end of it touches his nose. Then he stops moving altogether.  Graves hesitantly raises his hand to touch him. He lets Credence smell him once more before scratching his head, and Credence’s purrs get louder.

“He seems to like you.” Newt is not quite sure how he feels about that fact. Graves is still caressing the cat. He seems much more relaxed than he was when Newt first saw him, the tension bleeding from his body as a bond starts to form between man and animal.

Graves smiles happily at him, and for a moment Newt forgets to breathe. “I think I’ll take him. And, Newt?”

Newt looked away. He’d come to care a lot about Credence ever since he started working here. He wanted to adopt the cat. He knew it was likely someone else would come before he had the means to, but he selfishly hoped no one would because of Credence’s disability. And if someone did, he never thought it would be the same man who’d broken his heart last time. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Newt says.

“For acting like a complete dickhead last time,” Graves says seriously. “I should have… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Newt blinks, his eyes stinging, because Percival did not say he changed his mind. “It’s okay, I get it. We want different things. It’s fine, Percival.”

“No, I --” Percival looks frustrated. “Listen. During the whole week I couldn’t get you - your face out of my head. How you looked at me before you took off running. I swear it.”

“You apologized,” Newt says dryly, getting up. “There’s no need to make this more dramatic than it needs to be. Give Credence back, we’ll go back to the reception for the adoption papers.”

“Newt, I’m being honest.” Percival stands up as well, maneuvering so he holds Credence close to his chest. The cat snuggles in Percival’s sweater with a soft meow. Newt looks at him, feeling betrayed in a weird way. “This is possibly not the best setting to discuss this, but - please listen to me.”

Newt crosses his arms impatiently. “I’m listening.”

“I said I didn’t want to commit,” Graves begins. “Turns out there’s a word for what I feel. I think I might have commitment issues.”

“Right,” Newt says slowly. “And?”

“And…” Graves swallows. “And that’s why I rejected you so violently. But I didn’t mean to.”

“You seemed pretty clear to me. You just want a quick fuck, and I want something that matters.”

“I want us to try again,” Graves insists louder. “And it’s not just because I want to fuck you, Newt. You were right - it is funny that we keep running into each other like that. Look at us today! Another coincidence. I planned to call you tomorrow to say the very same things I am saying to you right now. I’d have left you a message if you didn’t reply. I’m honestly attracted to you,” he atones, taking a step forward, “In a way I don’t quite know how to explain. And if to make this work I have to fight a huge part of me, that keeps screaming letting you in is a mistake, then I’ll do it.” He sounds resolute.

Newt stares mutely at him.

As far as passionate speeches go, that was a pretty good one. Determined, eager and frank.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Newt finally says when the silence stretches. “I was kind of trying to get over you.”

“So was I,” Graves says with a little smile. “It’s not working.”

“I understand that.”

Newt walks to the door of the play area and opens it. Graves follows with Credence in his arms, and together they put the cat back into his enclosure, with Graves’ spoken promise that he’ll come to see him again soon. Newt feels a swell of affection for the man, which he quickly tries to squash down - something difficult when _hope_ is blooming inside him because of Graves’ words.

“I’ll text you within the week,” Newt settles on saying as they exit the cats’ house. “Maybe. We’ll go to the zoo, or the cinema, or a museum.” He tries to gauge Graves’ reaction, but the other doesn’t protest - merely nods.

“Anything you want.”

When they reach the reception he holds the door open for Newt like a perfect gentleman, making him blush.

Nathaniel is on his phone. He quickly straightens up at the sight of them, plastering a professional smile on his face. “Welcome back! Did you find anyone?”

“I believe I have,” Graves says, looking at Newt.

“He will adopt Credence.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. We can go over the paperwork now then - though we can't hand over the little guy right away.”

“Of course.” Graves turns to Newt, holding his hand out. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Newt.”

“Likewise,” Newt says, accepting the gesture, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. Graves’ hand is warm and big against his, his grip strong. “Mr. Graves.”

Their eyes meet, and he feels it again - that unmistakable spark of interest that says: _hold onto him, talk to him, get to know him._

“You have my number,” Percival says quietly. Newt nods, then he lets go. Percival goes up to the reception desk, and Newt leaves by the same door he came in from, casting one last glance at Percival’s profile.

Deep down, he already knows they’ll be meeting again.

-

The first thing Newt sees when he arrives is the _‘Closed '_  sign on the door. He takes his phone out of his pocket, quickly texting Theseus to ask if he’s nearby. Perhaps his brother just left the shop unattended for a couple of minutes while he’s busy buying some cigarettes, or something similar. When he leaves the shop for little matters such as this, one of his employees is always left behind, so Newt has no doubts someone will eventually come for him.

He peers inside the tattoo parlor, squinting to try to make something out. There are low, colored lights still on, and some movement in the corner of his vision. He knocks on the window hesitantly. Whoever is inside turns  before coming closer, and Newt lets out a sigh of relief as the familiar silhouette of Elizabeth goes to open the door.

“Newton.” She greets him with a lazy grin, chewing gum. Her hair is a bright shade of purple mixing with green, and it somehow suits her just right. “Sorry. I was takin’ a break. Haven’t seen you round here in a while, mate.”

“Yeah.” Newt steps inside, welcoming the warmth and familiarity of the place. He takes off his coat and pulls it over one arm, looking around. “Is Theseus busy?”

“Guess so. Been talkin’ with a girl ‘bout her tat for hours. He’s at the back.”

Newt knows his way inside. He nods at Elizabeth, and makes his way around the counter, to the single, long corridor stretching behind it. There are three doors on his left; Newt knows the first one is where Theseus pierces those who want that done, the second one leads to the basement - where clients come to get tattooed - and the third one is Theseus’ office, where he discusses tattoo designs and ideas with new clients. He makes his way there, the sound of his footsteps drowning in the deep, electronic music coming from loudspeakers above his head. This, coupled with the multi-colored lights of the place, gives it a sacred, eerie feeling. Newt is used to it by now, but he guesses it must make quite an impression for newcomers. Theseus’ reputation is well-earned. Come to think of it, it was a bit silly of him to tell Tina to come here. Even as Newt’s friend, there is no way she could afford Theseus’ prices, unless maybe -

A thump interrupts his thoughts, followed by a soft sigh. Newt stills in front of the ajar door, hand hovering above the doorknob. Frowning, he peers at Theseus’ office through the little opening he has.

His brother isn’t facing him, too busy placing kisses on the neck of a dark-haired woman, who’s sitting on his desk, papers discarded on the floor. She gasps, eyes fluttering close in pleasure. Theseus chuckles against her. She wraps her legs around his waist to bring him closer, and Newt swallows, because one, _what the fuck,_ and _two._

_What the fuck._

“Tina?”

Tina lets out a loud squeak, eyes flying open to meet Newt’s at the door. Theseus steps back and away from her, turning around with a smile on his face - as though Newt hadn’t just surprised him breaking all of his own rules regarding professional conduct.

“Newt. Haven’t I told you to bloody knock, little brother?”

“Newt,” Tina says, cheeks pink. Newt stares at her as she attempts to brush her hair back into a semblance of order and tucks her shirt back into her pants. Theseus clears his throat.

“Really?” Newt says, once he can find his voice again. Theseus looks at Tina before shrugging, and Newt scoffs. “I never knock. Lizzy told me you two were going over tattoo designs, not attempting to make babies.”

Theseus holds his hands up placatingly. “Down, brother. We did discuss tattoos. Hers is gonna be a stunner.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Now I didn’t say that. She’ll get it done here, but by one of my colleagues, it’s more his style.”

“You guys wanna quit talking about me like I’m not sitting right here?” Tina huffs, leaving the desk to stand in front of them. “It’s rude.”

“Sorry, baby,” Theseus says. Tina blushes at the pet name, and Newt’s bemusement only grows.

“... I need a drink. It seems I have turned into a bloody matchmaker against my will.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Tina rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault your brother is hotter than you.” She punctuates her sentence with a wink in Theseus’ direction, and Newt makes a face.

“Please stop.”

“Darling, you’re gonna make a man swoon,” Theseus drawls, batting his eyelashes at her. The gesture looks horribly ridiculous for the mountain of a man that he is, all fiery red hair and wiry muscles. Newt groans, before getting a hold of himself and looking at Theseus seriously.

“I need to talk to you.”

Theseus’ smile falls and he straightens up at Newt’s change of tone. “Of course. Tea or booze?”

“Tea, thanks.” His brother leaves with a nod, going to fetch the three of them some drinks. Newt places his coat on the back of a chair before collapsing on it.

“Let me guess,” Tina says, an elastic trapped between her teeth as she redoes her ponytail up. “This is about Percival.”

“No.”

“Oh, dear. It is. C’mon, spill. Where did you meet him this time? The pool? A sex shop? The toilets at the mall? You slipped on a puddle and fell right into his waiting arms? You discovered he’s actually married with two kids? What is it?”

Newt shakes his head, feeling a smile pull at his lips. But he is exhausted, confused, and not in the mood for games. “The shelter.”

Tina’s eyes widen. “The animal shelter?”

“Yes.”

“Was he looking for you?” Tina asks. “Couldn't he have just called?”

“He did call,” Newt admits. “Once or twice. I just didn't reply.”

“Newt -”

“Figured it was for the best. Anyway, he adopted Credence.”

Tina raises her eyebrows. “He what? Did he know? Just how much of an asshole is this guy?”

“It's fine,” Newt says, voice small. “He didn't know. They seem to really get along, it was kind of cute. I think Credence will be just fine with him.”

Tina bites her lips. Compassionate, she takes a chair to sit in front of him, taking his hands in hers. “Did he apologize?”

“Yeah. We had a bit of a talk, actually.”

Theseus chooses that time to come back with a small tray containing two cups of tea and one coffee. Tina takes the coffee from him with a small thanks, and Theseus ushers them to sit on the small sofa instead while he takes a chair. He leans in, elbows on his knees as he drops two sugars in his own tea. “Who apologized to whom?”

“Some guy Newt’s been seeing apologized for being a dick. Doesn’t make him any less of a dick though.” Tina takes a sip of her coffee, then looks at it in surprise. “Damn, this is actually good.”

Theseus raises his eyebrows. “Only the best for my customers, sweetheart. Who is this guy?”

“He’s a writer,” Newt murmurs. “I met him at a park. The first time.”

“And then he met him again at the park, then the supermarket, then they had coffee together and all was well until Dude said he was only looking for a quick fuck,” Tina resumes.

Theseus frowns. “Right.”

“Which is fine,” Tina continues quickly, “Except Newt took it to heart.”

Theseus nods grimly. “I see. Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes and no.” Newt grimaces. “I mean, yes. I saw him again this morning. He was looking to adopt a cat.”

Theseus stares. “You serious? And it was just a coincidence?”

“Yeah.” Newt sighs. “I never told him where I worked. And I barely use social media, so he couldn’t have tracked me or some shit. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was. It wasn’t exactly a good start to my morning, but I kept it professional.”

Theseus makes a face. “Damn.”

“Right?” Newt’s fingers tighten around his cup of tea, but he barely feels its warmth. “But then he… He said he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me.” Tina makes a disbelieving sound. “That he did some research and thinks he has commitment issues, but that he’d like to try seeing me again. I just…” Newt blinks rapidly, tears stinging at his eyes from exhaustion. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I should do.”

“Tina,” Theseus says after a beat. “Could you leave us alone for a moment?”

Tina hesitates, but one quick nod from Newt is all she needs to stand up and walk quietly to the door, coffee in hand. Theseus takes her place on the sofa, wrapping his arm around Newt’s back and drawing him in until Newt’s face is tucked in the crook of his shoulder. Newt sniffles, unable to stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks at the physical contact. He wipes them quickly, but his soft sobs don’t subside, and Theseus soothes him through it, holding him and caressing his hair until Newt has calmed down.

“Newt,” Theseus sighs. “Look. You’re driving yourself to the ground working hard to get your degree. You have Tina, Queenie, and others to keep you afloat. I really don’t think you need to be with a guy who already promises to be a hassle, unless he is _really_ serious about trying it with you.”

“I know,” Newt says quietly, pressing himself closer against Theseus, seeking affection. “But I don’t know, Thes’. He sounded honest.”

“Do you want to see him again?”

Newt thinks. He thinks of Percival’s smile, of the sheer relief on his face when Newt had found his earring - Newt thinks it was a gift, for Percival to hold onto them so deeply -, of his pride when he talks of his book. He thinks of Percival’s genuine interest when Newt had talked about himself, thinks of the jokes they shared. He thinks of Percival softly petting Credence, thinks of his hopeful eyes as Newt told him he would call again. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

Newt wrinkles his nose. “Him, I guess. Us. This. I do. Want to see him. It’s weird.”

Theseus kisses Newt’s hair, making the younger man squirm. “Give him a second chance, then. But don’t you go losing sleep over him either, Newt. You don’t get nearly enough as it is. At the end of the day you deserve someone who cares about you for who you are.”

“I don’t think such a person exists,” Newt says, voice small.

Theseus grumbles. “Course they fucking do. If they don’t, the big guy and I are gonna have some words. And let me tell you - Holy Father or not, I’m not gonna hold back with the bastard.”

Newt lets out a small laugh. “Only you would say that.”

He straightens up, but Theseus’ arm remains on his shoulder. His brother’s eyebrows are scrunched up, his smile tight-lipped. His expression is a familiar one, an old tale of unconditional love bleeding into worry. “And if that guy turns out to be an ass, you tell me. I knock his head in as well.”

“Theseus.” Newt rolls his eyes, but his tone is playful. “Thanks. It’s fine. I’m just worried that if I see him again, we’ll end up where he wants us to, and then he’ll just shut me out again - but properly this time. It’s happened before.”

“That would just confirm his status as a real dickhead then, and he wouldn’t be worth it,” Theseus says simply. “What’s his name, anyway?”

“Percival.”

“Fancy. You got his family name? We could look him up on Facebook.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So I can see who exactly is giving my little brother so much trouble and give him a piece of my mind if I see him in the streets.”

“Theseus.”

“What? Is he ugly?”

Newt grins. “He’s, hm. He’s really not.”

“No ? Now you’ve got me intrigued.” Theseus stands up and goes to his desk, grabbing his laptop. He opens it up and types his password quickly. “Here we go.” He hands Newt the MacBook, opened on Theseus’ Facebook page. Newt groans half-heartedly but looks up Percival’s name anyway, admitting privately that he is curious as well. He hadn’t even thought of searching for Percival on the Internet.

Percival’s profile is the second amongst the results, and Newt’s heart skips several beats at the picture they see. Graves is staring off into the distance, looking serious, and dangerously handsome in a three-piece blue suit, complete with waistcoat and tie. It makes Newt feel warm inside, and he swallows with difficulty.

“It’s, uh. It’s him,” he says dumbly in Theseus’ general direction, turning the laptop towards him. Theseus leans down to look at the screen, before letting out a low whistle.

“ _Damn_ , Newton. That one is a keeper.”

Newt’s blush deepens. He doesn’t dare look at his brother. “I know.”

“You have my support,” Theseus says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go get your man. Make him fall hard for you.”

“Sure.” Newt smiles. “And you go get your woman, who happens to be my best friend, who you literally just met.”

“Whoops,” Theseus says sheepishly.

“Take care of her, Theseus.” Newt glares at him, but he is amused. He knows his brother is a good person, and he trusts him and Tina to know what they are doing, although it will take a bit of time to get used to the couple should they make it serious. He certainly didn’t imagine the both of them would get along quite so well, but he is happy for them both.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything less,” Theseus reassures him.  “Speaking of - we should probably let her know she’s good to come back inside. What you doing tonight, anyway?”

Newt finishes his tea, burning his tongue in the process. “I’m just going to go home. It's been a long day. Sorry I barged in on you like that, by the way.” Newt looks down. “I just needed to talk.”

Theseus snorts. “That’s sorta what big brothers are for. I just asked cos I’m planning to meet some mates of mine in a little bit. You can come along as well if you want - I was already thinking of asking Tina to accompany me. Might help get your mind off all the lover-boy crap.”

Newt gives it some thought, pausing. That actually sounds good, but he's also really tired. “Alright.”

“Great!” Theseus ruffles his hair. “Let's get moving. You can work here, if you want - I just need to finish up a few things before closing the shop.”

-

They spend the next hour in quiet companionship. Newt feels too tired to get anything done, so he flips through one of Theseus’ books showing off the works his brother has accomplished in the past year - tattoos and piercings alike. With longing, he thinks that he would love to get back into drawing, should he ever find the time to.

Tina is busy writing down notes next to him, drafting a writing assignment which is due the next Wednesday. Theseus types on his laptop, a frown marring his face as he replies to emails.

Newt takes his phone out of his pocket. It is close to nine now, and Theseus will close soon. He unlocks the screen, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He opens his messages, fingers hesitantly hovering above the keyboard, before writing a quick, ‘ _so there was this new movie I wanted to see_ ’ to Percival.

He hits send before he can regret it. _There_. Maybe he will never get a reply.

Newt doesn’t care, not now. He sets his phone on silent before putting it in his pocket again, intending to enjoy the evening. He meets Theseus’ eyes, and his brother smiles at him. “I’m almost done. You guys can wait by the door, I won’t be long. Newt, tell Lizzy to go home if she hasn’t already. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Tina?”

“Coming,” Tina says, writing one last sentence before capping her pen with a sigh. “Man, I feel like these are crap ideas. Teacher’s gonna have my skin again.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t started on this assignment yet,” Newt says lightly. “Figured I’d spend most of my week-end on it.”

Tina sighs, zipping her handbag shut and getting up. Newt and her put on their coats, and Tina completes her outfit with a scarf, fluffy earmuffs and a pair of gloves.

“What?” She says, noticing Newt is eyeing her outfit with interest. “It’s fucking cold.”

“Where did you buy these?” Newt asks, pointing at the earmuffs. “They seem really warm.”

“Oh. Well, remember that date I ran to the other day?”

“With the girl?”

Theseus perks up at that, looking up from his laptop to focus on Tina.

“Yes. Well we ended up going shopping, which was really nice, and I bought these and a bunch of other things, cause winter is coming.”

Theseus says, “You’re dating someone?”

“It was just a Tinder date,” Tina tells him. “Nothing serious.”

“I see.” Theseus closes his laptop and smiles warmly at them. “I’m all good, guys. Let’s get going.”

-

Newt gets home that night pleasantly fuzzy, alcohol still buzzing through his veins. Theseus’ mates had been really kind, if a bit too loud and boisterous for Newt’s liking - the beers they consumed not helping any. Tina had taken a mojito while Newt settled on vodka, and after he insisted Theseus ordered him a fourth drink his brother had made a face and sent him home, with a promise that Newt would text him once he was back. He does it now, his heart skipping a beat when he sees Percival replied to him.

> **_Which movie? :)_ **

He doesn’t want to answer just yet. Theseus, however, gets his message, and after that Newt only has one thing in mind - his bed.

He forces himself to stay awake long enough to change into his pajamas and brush his teeth, and then he slips under the covers, letting out a small sound of contentment. _This_ is what he lives for.

He falls soundly asleep within minutes, while a couple of blocks away Percival Graves looks at his own phone.

Newt still hadn't replied to him, but Percival could be patient.

Graves snuffed his cigarette on the windowsill, breathing deeply. The night is cold and it helps clear his mind. He shivers but stays there a little longer still, looking at the lights of the city, before closing the window.

He wants to see Newt again. He really does, and it scares him to no end.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic commissions are open on my Tumblr ! You can find all the info you need here ! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 
> 
> http://thegaypumpingthroughyourveins.tumblr.com/post/166952359435/lets-do-this-hi-guys-i-am-opening-up-fic
> 
> Comments motivate me to keep writing the story.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr | @thegaypumpingthroughyourveins


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